


It Doesn't Snow in Galatea

by tarinumenesse



Series: Considering that it's you [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Childhood Memories, F/M, Fluff, Married Couple, Romance, Snow Day, Sylvgrid Week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:27:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24504619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarinumenesse/pseuds/tarinumenesse
Summary: Ingrid is always excited by the first snow, even when the people around her are a bit less enthusiastic.Sylvgrid Week 2020 Day 1: Childhood
Relationships: Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: Considering that it's you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1771669
Comments: 15
Kudos: 57
Collections: Sylvgrid week 2020





	It Doesn't Snow in Galatea

Ingrid threw open the door of the room where the crown prince, Felix, and Sylvain were sleeping. The thump when it hit the wall reverberated through the air. As Ingrid ran across the room to the window, she was met with a chorus of sluggish groans.

“Snow!” she shouted. “It’s snowing!”

Dimitri, who as crown prince had gotten the room’s only bed, winced when Ingrid opened the curtains and light poured into the room. Sylvain sat up abruptly, eyes still closed, his blankets wrapped so tightly around him that they didn’t budge.

Felix rolled onto his back and pulled a quilt up over his face.

“So what?” he grumbled.

Ingrid looked at Sylvain, choosing him as the most likely to get excited by the situation. He had managed to open his eyes and was presently squinting at her.

“Snow!” she repeated.

“Ingrid,” Dimitri said. He paused to let loose a mighty yawn. “It’s just snow.”

“How can you say that? Come on!”

Ingrid leaned down and dug Sylvain’s arm out of his cocoon of blankets. She tugged, but he didn’t move. She would have to make the invitation more attractive.

“I’ll ask father to bring out the sleds,” she said.

“Ingrid,” Sylvain said, breaking his left hand free to wipe his eyes as Ingrid kept pulling on the right, “the first snow here is never good enough for sledding.”

Ingrid let go of his arm with a frustrated snarl and put her hands on her hips.

“Why are you all so boring?” she demanded.

“It’s just snow,” mumbled the pile of quilts that concealed Felix.

Ingrid threw her arms up and marched out of the room. She continued down the hall to another door and knocked gently.

“Glenn?” she called.

It was a few moments before the door cracked open. Glenn poked his head around it. Unlike the boys, he was awake and alert, his long hair already braided into a queue. He smiled indulgently at her.

“What is it, Ingrid?” he asked.

Ingrid looked at the floor, unable to keep eye contact. Lately she had begun to realise what being engaged to Glenn actually meant, mostly because of Sylvain’s teasing. Sometimes having a friend two years older was not helpful.

“It’s snowing,” Ingrid said. “Do you want to come outside and see?”

She glanced up to see Glenn step backwards. His fingers were wrapped around the edge of the door, stopping it from opening all the way.

“I promised your brother and Miklan I would train with them this morning,” he said. “Maybe next time?”

Ingrid skipped backwards, forcing herself to smile.

“That’s okay,” she said. “It’s not important.”

“Sorry, ‘grid,” Glenn said.

He closed the door.

Alone in the hallway, Ingrid let her smile fade away. Of course Glenn wanted to train with her brother. Next month, he turned sixteen. Yesterday he had been confirmed as Baron Dominic’s squire. He was going to serve the king himself. Why would he want to play in the snow? Glenn didn’t have time for games. She had only proved how much of a child she was by asking in the first place.

Ingrid shook her head. Never mind. She wouldn’t let this, or her friends’ lack of enthusiasm, ruin the first snow. It only happened once a year! She would go alone.

Determined, Ingrid balled her fists and turned. It was only then that she saw Sylvain standing in front of the boys’ room, watching her. He crossed his arms as their eyes met, his lips twitching.

Ingrid’s face grew warm. She knew, just knew, that Sylvain was thinking of something mean to say, something about her and Glenn, about her foolishness. She wouldn’t let him. She spun in the opposite direction and ran.

It was only when Ingrid felt the harsh chill of the early morning air that she realised her coat was still lying on her bed. She had known it would take the boys some time to get ready (they were always slow) and had planned to go back to get her coat while she was waiting. Now, she couldn’t—Sylvain’s inevitable joke would be even worse if she had to skulk back past him.

Knowing that going outside without her coat was to risk her mother’s eternal fury, Ingrid stood under the shelter at the entrance to the castle, hugging herself and watching the snowflakes drift through the air. The morning was ruined. Even worse, she could see that Sylvain was right about snow in Galatea: there was nowhere near enough for sledding. There was barely enough to build a snowman. The boys didn’t realise how lucky they were, living in the north.

Ingrid yelped as something tickled her cheek and a weight landed over her back. She twisted, raising her hands, ready to counter whatever attack would follow. As she did, a red woollen coat fell from her shoulders and piled on the dirt between her and Sylvain’s feet.

Sylvain raised his eyebrows as he stared down at the garment.

“That’s new,” he whined.

Ingrid immediately crouched down and picked up the coat. She brushed away the dirt.

“I’m sorry,” she said, jumping up and holding it out to him.

When she did, she saw that although Sylvain was dressed, with the long coat he had been wearing when he arrived the day before tightly buttoned up to his chin, he still had sleepymen at the corners of his eyes. And his hair wasn’t combed.

“S’okay,” Sylvain said, grinning at her. He ignored the coat, grabbing her hand instead. “Come on. Let’s go outside the walls. There might be bigger drifts at the bottom of the hill.”

The coat fell to the ground once more as Sylvain dragged Ingrid into the cold air.

By evening, she was tucked up in bed with a cold.

*

Sylvain was still in bed, buried deep under a pile of blankets and quilts. Ingrid was unable to smother her grin as she jumped onto the mattress. It bobbed under her weight. Sylvain groaned and rolled onto his stomach, before grabbing a pillow and shielding his head with it.

“Sylvain,” Ingrid murmured. She burrowed under the blankets and wrapped her arms and legs around him. For a moment she was tempted to forget her mission—it was so warm and comfortable there, compared to the draughty halls of Castle Galatea—but it was hard to fight her excitement.

“It’s snowing,” she said, butting the pillow with her forehead.

Sylvain’s head remained hidden beneath it.

“You’ve lived in Gautier for seven years now,” came his muffled voice. “Aren’t you sick of snow yet?”

“That’s Gautier snow,” Ingrid said. “This is Galatea snow.”

“There’s a difference?”

Ingrid lifted up the side of the pillow closest to her. Sylvain turned his head to look at her. There were sleepymen around his eyes, and his hair was a mess. But she only felt a momentary guilt for waking him.

“A huge difference,” she said.

Sylvain closed his eyes and sighed. Then, he threw the pillow towards the end of the bed, untangled himself from Ingrid, and sat up.

“Give me three minutes,” he said, rubbing his face.

Ingrid bounced off the bed and down the hallway. She heard the frantic patter of bare feet as she threw open the door of the twins’ room.

“Valentin! Jermaine!”

Her boys were both in bed, but sat up immediately when she opened the curtains. That, even without the panic when she opened the door, let her know that they had not been asleep. There was bound to be some mischief hidden in the room, but now was not the time to search for it.

Ingrid knelt down and retrieved the twins’ coats from the clothing trunk.

“It’s snowing,” she announced.

Valentin and Jermaine both cast their blankets aside and swarmed her.

“Can we get the sleds?” Jermaine asked, getting his coat in a tangle as he tried to pull it over his nightclothes. Somehow, Valentin was already in his, and was tucking his trousers into his boots.

“Of course.”

The three of them looked up to where Sylvain towered in the doorway with Ingrid’s coat draped over his arm.

“We’ll take them down the hill,” he said, smiling at Jermaine.

Valentin cheered and squeezed past Sylvain. Jermaine ran after his brother, a boot in each hand. Sylvain shook his head as he entered the room.

“Not that there’s enough snow for sledding,” he said, holding out a hand to Ingrid.

Ingrid took it and stood up. Sylvain kissed her hand before releasing it, then shook out her coat and held it up by the shoulders.

“Arms,” he ordered.

Ingrid turned her back to him and slipped into the sleeves. Sylvain arranged the coat over her shoulders.

“If the boys catch a cold, it’s your fault,” he said. “Letting them run outside in their nightclothes.”

“They’ll be fine,” Ingrid said.

She tried to step away, but Sylvain’s arms wrapped around her. He kissed her neck, then began to fasten the coat’s buttons, his chin on her shoulder.

“You need to stay warm too,” he said. His hand caressed her slightly rounded belly. “You can’t afford to get sick.”

Ingrid turned in his arms and put her hands on his shoulders.

“If any of us do, I know you’ll take good care of us,” she said. “You’ll bring soup.”

A pink flush stained Sylvain’s cheeks, as though Glenn and Miklan’s teasing that winter when she was eleven and he thirteen still bothered him.

“What about Liana?” he asked. “Are you going to leave her out of this madness?”

“Of course not,” Ingrid said. “You get the sled for the boys, and I’ll get Liana.”

“Very well.”

Sylvain folded her fur collar up around her neck, then kissed her.

“You’d better hurry,” he said as he drew back. “It’s too warm out there for the snow to last long.”

“Don’t ruin it!” Ingrid exclaimed, breaking away and rushing towards the door to fetch their daughter.

**Author's Note:**

> I am a little late to the party, but when I found out that Sylvgrid Week was happening and saw the prompts, it was impossible to resist writing about one of my favourite FE3H ships.
> 
> Stay safe.


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